


Where The Heart Is

by mskatej



Category: Smallville
Genre: Clubbing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-09-27
Updated: 2005-09-27
Packaged: 2017-10-27 01:22:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/290036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mskatej/pseuds/mskatej
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lex takes Clark to a club for Clark's birthday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where The Heart Is

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on [Livejournal](http://mskatej.livejournal.com/18775.html)

Lex finishes his brandy and pretends he's not nervous. Anyway, it's not nerves exactly. It's that excited anticipation he used to feel a lot more often a few years back, when he painted Metropolis red on a weekly, often nightly, basis. Long night, fuzzy morning stretched ahead of him, his for the taking.

Drugs, booze, identical conversations with girls and boys, all indistinguishable from each other, identical clubs, and those were the days when he was carefree. Or those were the days when he didn't care.

He's still young but he doesn't feel it and he knows he'll never be a kid again.

Things have changed so much, not least because of Clark Kent.

Three years of friendship, the only friendship he's ever really had, and he's fucked up a lot. Desperate to keep Clark near and protect him and repay him and _know_ him (everything about him) and push him as far away as he can, because there's no way he deserves the boy's affection.

Oh, shut up, Lex, or get thee to a shrink.

He's his father's son and as much as he hates that fact, it's convenient too, because his curiosity (is that what it is?) knows no bounds and Lex accepts that it's all in the genes.

Clark Kent.

Clark says Lex is his best friend, though Lex thinks the term is a tad inaccurate. There's something in it, he'll grant, but what they have goes beyond mere friendship, what they have doesn't deserve the title. A little less dishonesty might have changed things and Lex is well aware he gave as good as he got in that department.

Ruminating on the impossibility of his desires is as fruitless an exercise as there is in his complicated life, and tonight is definitely not the night for it. Because tonight Clark is eighteen years old and Lex is the oh so privileged one of getting Clark all to himself.

None of Clark's tiresome little friends around to make Lex feel unworthy. No Lana Lang to distract Clark and make Lex impatient.

Just the boy and he. And a night on the town.

Oh yes, Lex has plans for the two of them and they involve getting the fuck out of Smallville and getting Clark at least a little out of his head.

Oh the things he would do with a drunken Clark.

Who's currently standing, sober, in the doorway, with that adorably sheepish expression that suits him so well, and Lex's breath hitches a little.

Will he ever get tired of looking at him? Not dressed in anything remarkably different from the norm - though the clothes are definitely new: jeans and a dark green t-shirt that brings out the green in Clark's eyes. Lex is too far away at the moment to know this for sure, but he looks forward to confirming it soon.

"Happy birthday, Clark," he says, smiling.

Clark smiles back. "Thanks."

He sounds a little nervous, which Lex finds calming.

He walks over to him and puts his hand on Clark's upper arm, warm skin and rock hard muscle under his palm, and he squeezes gently as Clark looks down at him with slightly raised eyebrows. He was right. The t-shirt does bring out the green in Clark's eyes.

"Come on. Let's go."

The limo's been waiting outside the mansion for the past half hour and Lex enjoys the look of excitement on Clark's face as he hops inside. It's not Clark's first time in a limo, by no means, but it's like it is. Maybe because it's Clark's birthday and Lex is taking him to Metropolis for the night and he doesn't have a curfew for the first time.

The story had amused Lex. Another tale of over-protective parenting that Clark is growing out of appreciating and the familiar bitter tang that always accompanied those stories isn't as sharp as it used to be.

Clark having a yelling match with Martha and Jonathan about being eighteen and old enough to look after himself and he's not a kid anymore and he'll come home when he wants, and really, he hadn't given them any room to argue in the end.

Lex thinks that they're afraid. Not of Clark, but of Clark not being there. You can't cling on forever and he suspects the Kents still consider Clark something of a flight risk.

Lex isn't going to lie to himself about his indifference to this progression. There was a time when he wanted their approval, maybe even their love, but that time is long past, and now Clark is the only thing that matters to him.

His feelings for Clark are as complex as ever, of course. When he ponders on their relationship he finds it difficult to fathom what it is that's kept him so interested. It's more than the mystery. More than the startling good looks. More than the way it all began.

Clark does something to Lex that he knows no one else will ever do. It's that something that he wants to find words for because he's not used to being unable to express himself. Besides, if he can put a name to it, he can take control of it. This makes him laugh to himself, if humorlessly, because it's so damn silly to want to control whatever it is and so damn typical of him.

Lex needs to stop thinking so much and start enjoying his evening out. After all, there won't be many more in the future, and as it is, it's rare to get Clark time these days. Rarer still to get a whole night with him, alone, to celebrate something, and with no ulterior motives. At least, no new ulterior motives.

Cracking open the bottle of champagne and filling up the crystal flutes is a lovely and ceremonious thing to do as they fly past the "Welcome to Smallville" sign. Getting out. Leaving town. A plethora of possibilities lie in wait - their night just beginning, memories being created as the bubbles slide down their throats and lift up their spirits.

Clark is yapping away about the various different birthday presents he got this year. Lana gave him some book of poetry which he's especially confused by because she knows he doesn't like poetry but allegedly she pointed out a couple that she thinks he should read and Lex tries his hardest not to roll his eyes. Chloe did much better with a selection of CDs and Pete posted him a Gameboy which is the number one gift by a long shot. Clark's eighteen now but he's still a kid.

It's an easy journey and Lex enjoys himself. They're getting on better than they have in a while and it's no doubt due to a birthday high and that Lex has left all thought of responsibility and work and family behind in the town that he calls home.

When the hell did Smallville become home?

Lex knows when.

He opened his eyes, spluttered for breath and saw the boy he'd killed staring down at him, wet hair, green eyes, heartbreakingly beautiful. The word exile lost all meaning in that moment.

Metropolis is always the same and always different. Bright neons and noisy horns, girls in six inch heels with glittering handbags, homeless eccentrics and drunken men shouting obscenities at each other, police cars gliding slowly through the streets, fire escapes lining the backs of buildings, no stars in the sky but there's a new moon tonight. It's not home anymore and maybe never was.

Will be though. When Clark moves here and goes to college. When Smallville feels like a ghost town because Clark's no longer there.

They're here. At Lex's former favorite club. It'll be full of new identical people now, and he won't recognize the music and he's not even sure he remembers how to have fun like this anymore, but he's got Clark on his arm and that alone makes Lex not want the night to end.

He doesn't know the doormen but the doormen know him and it's good to be treated like royalty, especially when you want to impress the birthday boy.

Ha. As if, after three years, Clark would be remotely impressed by this crap. Though Lex is gratified to see the expression of flushed excitement still there on the face that haunts his waking dreams.

Clark's eyes are like saucers and Lex can see why. There are a lot of very attractive girls here and Lex wonders if Clark is hoping to get a bit of action tonight. He smiles at the thought of Clark on the prowl and makes a conscious decision to not leave his side all night. It's Clark's birthday, yes, but this is Lex's night. And tonight Clark belongs to him.

Clark will have plenty of opportunities to pick up girls. But only one to spend his eighteenth birthday with his best friend.

A thumping hip hop bass and a sea of people and it's the same as Lex remembers. And different too. This time, he's floating above the colorful crowd and his gaze is full of apathy. These people are aliens to him.

Clark is the only real human being in here.

A seat in a private booth, two tangy cocktails and Lex sits a little bit closer to Clark than is necessary. Clark either doesn't mind or doesn't notice.

"Cheers," he says, and they clink glasses together and the way Clark's throat moves as he swallows is hypnotic.

"This place is great!" Clark yells. "Did you used to come here when you lived in Metropolis?"

"Yep." He grins. "I haven't been here for years though. Hasn't changed a bit."

Clark is nodding and taking big gulps of fruity sweet drink and bouncing up and down in his seat in time to the music. It occurs to Lex that he hasn't gone dancing once since moving to Smallville.

"Do you want to dance, Clark?"

Clark abruptly stops moving and widens his eyes and stares at Lex for a while with his mouth open.

Then he nods and Lex feels in remarkably high spirits all of a sudden.

They stand up and for a short moment Lex contemplates his next move and then decides, fuck it, this is his night. He grabs Clark's hand and pulls him off towards the dance floor. Clark's hand is big and warm and Clark holds on to Lex, curling his fingers around Lex's hand and the gust of pleasure that shoots through his entire body has nothing to do with the alcohol he's consumed.

Jesus. Did he really just make a move on Clark? It hadn't been his plan exactly, though in three years it's never been too far from his thoughts. He's too scared to look behind him, though the reasons for that are inscrutable. Would Clark be looking at him? Or would he be looking around the club at the barely dressed girls? Is Clark even aware that he's holding Lex's hand or is he a little drunk and not in charge of his faculties?

They weave through the crowd and the smell of perfume and bodies, the sticky floor, the flashing lights, the throbbing bass line, the crush, the hand in his, is intoxicating. Lex is no longer watching from above.

And when he finds their perfect spot - humid, dark and cramped - and turns around, finally letting go of Clark, he finds Clark looking straight at him, lips parted and eyes excited. They're very close to each other.

Lex loves to dance. He's not into flashy moves or drawing attention to himself; he's always been more of a voyeur than an exhibitionist. But he's got rhythm and style, perfected over years of all-night-long parties. It's a gentle bounce, an occasional click of his fingers, some subtle footwork and swiveling hips. And then you forget about everything except the music and your own body. And the person you're dancing with.

Clark's dancing makes Lex smile and turns him on.

He's got no technique, but he dances with his eyes closed and he looks lost inside the music, and the way he gyrates his hips is stupidly sexy.

He can't tear his eyes away and shifting a little bit closer is essential. Clark opens his eyes and stares down at Lex and they dance.

Four songs and a lot more staring at each other later, and Lex's erection is sending him instructions to touch Clark right now so he runs his hand down Clark's chest slowly, the t-shirt damp with sweat, rippling muscles underneath, the way Clark seems to moan, and now Lex is starting to feel lost.

He winds a hand around the back of Clark's neck and leans in, letting his lips touch Clark's ear and he says, just for the sake of it,

"Having fun?"

Being this close to Clark, being able to smell him and touch his skin, is electrifying and erotic and he knows now that Clark isn't going to stop him. In fact, Clark answers by putting a hand on Lex's waist and a hot mouth against Lex's ear.

"Yeah! Are you?"

Oh, they're flirting now. Beyond that because Lex is sick of being patient ( _three years_ ) and he pushes his cock, stiff and needy, into Clark's hip to illustrate just how much fun he's having.

Lets out a laugh into Clark's ear and lets his tongue slip out to lick the lobe a little. "Oh yes," he says and with that, Clark lets out a groan and presses his body into Lex's, who hisses at the feel of Clark's cock against his belly, just as hard as his is.

Lex can feel Clark's breath on his cheek, hot and sweet and moist.

And now neither of them are pretending that this is just another boys' night out. Grinding into each other, a thigh between each other's legs, careless of the writhing bodies surrounding them.

Lex wants to kiss Clark so badly his mouth is watering.

They're still moving. Dancing with each other in the most intimate way imaginable. Lex's lips are touching Clark's cheek and he lets them skate gently over the light stubble, turned on now like never before.

It's foreplay. Hell, the whole night has been foreplay and God, he can't wait any longer. He wraps his arms around Clark, finds the mouth that he's been dying to devour for three years and shoves his tongue into it hungrily.

Clark responds instantly and gives as good as he gets and Lex wonders what they look like.

He suspects they look great. And even if the world's press were in the club right now snapping photos of the famous Lex Luthor and his beautiful dance partner getting down and dirty on the dance floor, he wouldn't stop, couldn't stop, never ever wants to stop.

Rubbing himself into Clark, kissing him and being kissed, not really dancing anymore. More like vertical fucking with their clothes on.

When Clark breaks the kiss and looks down into Lex's eyes, Lex understands something now: he means as much to Clark as Clark means to him. There's more than lust in the pretty green eyes, more than birthday fever. It's need and he only knows that because it's like looking in a mirror.

"Lex," Clark breathes out, almost frantically. " _Lex_." Clark kisses him again with his mouth open and their tongues collide and it's so hot and Clark tastes impossibly good. Ends the kiss and Clark's voice sounds different from normal. He sounds aroused. "Can we go now?"

That Clark makes the suggestion is both surprising and seriously sexy. Lex can't even find words to express how much of a yes the answer to that question is, so he blinks and nods in agreement, takes Clark's hand for the second time tonight and starts pushing their way out through the crowd as fast as possible.

A million thoughts are coursing through his brain, all of them to do with how to get his hands and mouth on Clark again before Clark has a change of heart. Where to take him? To the limo? To an alley?

No. He knows there are rooms in the club and that he'll be allowed to use one and he just hopes it can be arranged quickly and without hassle.

Chances another look at Clark who's looking desperately horny and it makes Lex groan. Deposits him next to a door by the bar and tells him to wait for a minute. Clark just nods.

And soon they're leaving the deafening noise of the club behind and being led down a hall by one of the club's charming hostesses. Into a room, soft red glow, a number of big, comfortable looking leather couches and a huge, red, fluffy, inviting sheepskin rug on the floor. Lex thanks the girl and ignores her knowing smile as she shuts the door on her way out and then pushes Clark up against the wall. Stares at him for a second and dives in.

Kissing, touching, wanting. Oh God, he wants so much.

And that Clark isn't at all quiet is beyond wonderful, because the moans and gasps and the way he says Lex's name is better than every fantasy he's ever had, put together.

He pushes Clark's t-shirt up and when Clark tries to take it off he gets a little tangled, but then he's successful and his giggle turns into a moan when Lex's teeth find a nipple. Hand pinching and scratching at the other nipple and he can't be gentle. He's wanted this too much, for too long. He's going to *ravish* Clark.

Clark's hands are frozen in mid air as Lex scrapes his teeth and tongue all over Clark's chest, digs his nails into Clark's arms and then it's as if Clark suddenly remembers he can touch too. He's scrabbling at Lex's shirt, untucking him so he can get his hands underneath and touch skin.

"Lex, Lex, I want to touch you. Take off your shirt."

Okay. Clark giving orders is unexpected but then, everything that's happened so far has been unexpected and Lex doesn't have a problem with that. If he can only get his fingers to work properly, and he's annoyingly clumsy at undoing his buttons. Gets half way down the shirt and is taking way too long for Clark's liking. Knows this because Clark grabs the shirt where the buttons meet and rips it open.

Broken black shirt lying dead on the floor and no one mourning the loss.

Clark's hands all over him, rough and inexpert and perfect. Clark's hands on his ass, squeezing and pulling him in, so their cocks grind against each other.

Lex could come any second and he thinks Clark could too. Has to see more before that happens so he undoes the button of Clark's jeans and yanks down the zip, and as Clark does the rest by pushing his jeans and boxers down over his very, very hard cock, Lex takes care of his own fly.

They're looking down at each other and Lex takes them both in hand, stroking them together, hard and slow.

"Oh God," Clark croaks out. "Oh God, that feels so good."

Heavy sighs, needy moans, cocks getting slicker as their collective pre come is rubbed all over them, Clark's hand wrapped around Lex's, urging Lex to stroke faster, harder.

Clark's mouth on his again, tongue inside, teeth gnashing, breathing getting shallower, getting ragged, oh God, oh God, Clark's forehead against his shoulder and Lex can't hold on much longer and when Clark shouts wordlessly into his neck and Lex feels a jet of hot liquid spilling all over his hand and cock, he gasps one final time and -

Body gripped by orgasm. Intense like the strongest drug in the world times a billion. He's coming and coming, getting them sticky wet, and it lasts for so long and then it's over and they're both panting and leaning into each other, holding each other up.

When their eyes finally meet again, Lex can't think of anything to say, except,

"Happy birthday."

Clark laughs and kisses Lex. Goes on kissing Lex for a really long time, then rests his forehead against Lex's.

Voice full of happy laughter.

"That was definitely better than a Gameboy."

***

They're naked and lying on the red sheepskin, legs entwined and kissing like they have forever. Lex doesn't know how long they've been there but he does know that he has no intention of leaving for a long, long time. Hell, he still has to fuck Clark before they hit the road again. And blow him.

Too much to do really, but this might be Lex's only chance and he's not going to waste it.

"Lex?" Clark says between kisses.

"Yeah?"

"Why did you wait so long?"

It's a genuine question. He looks into Clark's eyes.

"I have no idea."

"Will things be different at home now?"

Okay, not what he was expecting.

"Do you want them to be?"

Clark clings to Lex, draws him even closer, getting as much skin contact as possible.

"Yes, Lex. I do."

And the something that Lex never had words for before now is so blindingly, wonderfully obvious that all Lex can do is laugh.


End file.
